


Willpower

by LiaIsInLove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexia Nervosa, Anorexic Niall, Depressed Niall, Depression, EDNOS, Eating Disorder, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Harry wants to lose weight, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Niall Has An Eating Disorder, Niall-centric, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Niall, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5009332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiaIsInLove/pseuds/LiaIsInLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry would not stop talking about how much he wished he could have the amount of willpower Niall had and how he wished he could be like Niall.  And Niall just…</p><p>Niall couldn’t fucking take it anymore. “It’s not a matter of willpower,” he’d groaned, head in his hands, face screwed up.  Harry had scoffed then, not believing him. “It’s not about willpower,” Niall’d repeated more forcefully. </p><p>“Well if it’s not about willpower, then what is it about?”</p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Niall tells Harry his deepest, darkest, best kept secret.</p><p>Triggers for eating disorders.  Please, please, please don't read if you have any chance of being triggered</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willpower

**Author's Note:**

> I will once again repeat myself: PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU MIGHT BE TRIGGERED BY IT. I promise, it's just fiction, you're not missing much. Real life is better. I promise.
> 
> If you do read this, please do not think that I am glamorizing eating disorders or mental illness.
> 
> To those of you who do read this, do not fool yourselves into thinking that the issues I am discussing are at all romantic. Do not think that mental illness is merely a plot-line to be used to romanticize the suffering of characters and add drama to a plot. Because it is not. It is not something that you wish upon anyone, real or fictitious, and it is not something that you desire to have for 'attention.' Do not read this purely for the angst, and then go comfortably off thinking that this was a good story line. This is not beautiful, this is not fantasy, and this is not simply a plot-line.
> 
> This is about living with severe mental illness. It is from the point of view of someone who suffers from several mental illnesses, and subsequently may seem like it condones some extremely harmful and dangerous behaviors. This is from a perspective distorted by disease. THIS IN NO WAY WHATSOEVER JUSTIFIES, CONDONES, OR MAKES LIGHT OF ANY DANGEROUS BEHAVIORS OR THOUGHTS.
> 
> Eating disorders are some of the most deadly mental illnesses out there. They should not be poked fun of or made light of.
> 
> Alright, more notes at the end. But seriously. Please do not read if you are not in a safe place.

Niall couldn’t believe it.  He couldn’t believe he just said that.  Was he really that fucking stupid?  Like, he knew he was a stupid fucking idiot, but he at least thought that he had at least an iota of sense in him.  But apparently not.  Apparently he was just as stupid as he looked. 

And that shouldn’t really surprise him. He did know that he was nothing but a worthless piece of shit after all.  But even still…He didn’t think he was _that_ pathetic.

Like seriously.  Who does that?  Who just blurts out their deepest darkest most guarded secret out of nowhere? Who fucking does that?

Niall apparently.  Niall did that because Niall Horan is a big fat fucking idiot. And he hates himself so goddamn much.

Honestly, he could have kept quiet. He could have said nothing so fucking easily and no one would have been any the wiser.  But instead, because he’s nothing but a useless attention-whore, he decided to tell Harry.  Harry of all people.  He couldn’t fucking believe it. 

It was just that Harry had been going on about how he had to get weighed at a doctor’s appointment and how he was really surprised and sad about how much he weighed.  Harry had been telling Niall all about his plans for his new diet, and begging Niall to help keep him on track.  Begging Niall to share some of his secrets.  And he just…He just snapped.  It was like he couldn’t keep it in any longer.  His insides were burning, and the words were like acid; he had to spit them out. 

But it wasn’t his fault (yes it was; it was completely his fault and if he weren’t such a big fat failure then there wouldn’t even be a problem to begin with).  It was Harry’s fault.  Harry, who was the epitome of sexy, Harry, who looked gorgeous in everything, Harry, who was more perfect than Niall could ever even dream of being, Harry, who knew, who fucking knew how insecure Niall was because Niall had fucking told him (stupidly), Harry, who was Niall’s best friend and who he thought he could trust. Harry.  It was Harry’s fault and Niall hated him for it.

Niall had been proud of himself. He was eating dinner without anyone’s prompting.  Without a huge internal battle.  Without even needing to have his energy for a workout or a performance later.  He was just eating dinner because he knew he should and his mind wasn’t screaming against it; the voices in his head telling him that he was a fat pig who didn’t deserve food were not as loud, and he was able to fight them. And so he had been eating dinner. He’d even had lunch earlier that day too.  So all in all, Niall was rather proud of himself.  It was a good day for him.

And then Harry had texted him, asking if he could join him and Niall, never one to say no to someone, let alone Harry, said of course. So the two of them were eating dinner together.  They were chatting, nothing of particular substance or importance, when Harry brought it up. He said he was really depressed—which bothered Niall to no end because Harry was well aware that Niall actually suffered from Depression, and Niall had specifically expressed to Harry, who had no personal experience with the disease, on numerous occasions how it just adds to the stigma around mental illness when people flippantly use disorders like Depression and OCD and Bipolar as throwaway adjectives, how it trivializes the disorders and simply perpetuates inaccurate stereotypes, and Harry was well aware of all of this but he still chose to say that he was depressed—because he had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day and he found out his weight for the first time in several months and it was much higher than he expected and much higher than it had ever been before.  So yeah, Harry was “depressed” about that.  Even though he was still smiling, and talking lightly, and eating, and functioning like a normal human being instead of laying catatonic in bed for hours, feeling nothing, utterly exhausted, wanting nothing more than to die, he was “depressed.” 

Niall had decided not make a big deal out of it and let Harry’s oh-so-casual use of the word slide for once in favor of comforting Harry and assuring him that he was absolutely beautiful the way he was and reminding him that a stupid number on a scale did _not_ define who he was as a person (even though Niall based his own self worth off of that same scale).  Liam, who had been sitting with Niall for a bit, then put in that weighing yourself was always a depressing matter, and you just had to try to ignore it. Then for some stupid reason Niall decided to make a joke out of it.  He’d turned to Harry and said, “if it makes you feel any better, Willie took the scale away from me; he said I was abusing it and so he hid it from me.”

They had all laughed.  Even when Liam asked Niall what he meant by “abusing” the scale, and Niall had replied that he had been weighing himself at least eight times a day.  They laughed it off. Liam had responded that it was impossible for your weight to change that significantly in just a day, and Niall had said lightly, that he’d be surprised how much it could fluctuate. Liam rolled his eyes, saying that it would at most change a pound but Niall had countered that it could change up to 2.3 pounds in a day, depending on what you ate and drank and when you’d last used the toilet.  Liam’s eyes had widened slightly at that, and he laughed uncomfortably saying, “I guess it’s a good thing Willie took it away from you.”  Niall shrugged, chuckling slightly, though he found no humor in his words.  Frankly, he was furious that Willie had taken away the scale, and even more furious that he had brought it up to begin with. 

The conversation moved on and Liam left shortly thereafter.  It was just Niall and Harry then.  And Niall had thought that they were done talking about weight.  But no.  Harry brought it up several more times.  Each time, hitting closer and closer home with Niall.

He’d talked about how he needed to go on a diet. About how he was so fat and he just wanted to lose ten pounds.  How everything would be better if he could just lose the ten pounds that he’d gained.

Niall had tried his best to talk him out of it. He’d warned Harry that losing weight was a slippery slope, and that it could easily get away from you. He’d said that losing ten pounds wasn’t some magic cure that automatically made you happier and made you love yourself. He’d told Harry that he was at the top of his game and ten pounds wouldn’t make any difference; his best bet was learning to accept and love himself rather than place his hopes in some arbitrary number on a scale.  But Harry hadn’t listened to him.

He kept fucking going on about wanting to be on a diet. He was fucking begging Niall for his help.  He insisted that he wouldn’t let it get out of hand and that he only wanted to lose ten pounds and he’d be so much happier then because he wouldn’t feel as heavy.  He said he could never possibly fall into bad patterns because he loved food too much and could never stop craving it and eating. And worst of all, he said that he didn’t have Niall’s willpower to just not eat.

See the thing is, Niall had opened up to Harry a little in the past.  He’d told him about his depression.  And he’d told him about his fear of gaining weight.  It’d been a tearful conversation on both sides, Harry bringing up his own insecurities and worries and in the end, it segued into Harry talking about his last girlfriend and his dying grandmother and Niall comforting him, his own problems left far behind.

And Harry and Niall had had many conversations about Niall being too skinny.  About him needing to eat more and be healthy.  Harry had assured him that if he gained twenty pounds, he’d still be so skinny; he wouldn’t be fat.  And Niall said that logically he knew that, but he just couldn’t make himself eat more. But he’d promised that he would try.

And there was a point where Niall had gained 13 pounds (13 agonizing pounds, every one of which he detested with his entire being) when he had gone home for two months over their break and his mam had been watching him like a hawk and forcing him to eat three meals every day. When they were reunited, Harry told Niall that he looked so good, so healthy, and that absolutely killed Niall inside.  Even though he knew that Harry meant it with the best possible intent and in the nicest possible way. Niall had even admitted that he felt so fat.  But Harry promised him that he was still very skinny and that he just looked better than before. Niall nodded along and said thanks, but in his head he was already planning out the ways in which he could lose the weight (and more).

So that had gone on for a bit, with some nearly disastrous results of Niall practically starving himself and then getting extremely dizzy and light-headed when doing physical activities (as in going to the gym or performing).  That had gotten all of the boys and their team on his back.  It had gotten to a point where he knew that everyone was talking and gossiping about him behind his back—Harry even confirmed that the boys often speculated whether or not they thought Niall would have eaten before rehearsals and concerts. He’d told Niall that he was irritated by their intrusiveness, and he thought that they were being too nosy and overbearing on Niall, practically forcing him to eat. Niall had vented to him about how much it bothered him when everyone was griping at him to eat and sleep more. It was so humiliating and he just wanted everyone to leave him alone.  But he knew that in order to do that he’d have to start eating a little bit more. And sleeping too (he hadn’t been doing much of that either).  So he did that (it was also around that point that Willie had determined that having a scale around was unhealthy for Niall—Niall had jokingly admitted to him that he was obsessing over it and it was going to be the death of him; he hadn’t thought Willie would actually take him seriously and hide it from him) and so the dizziness got a bit better.  Manageable at least to the point where he could hide it nearly all of the time.

But Harry had apparently forgotten all of this, because there he was going on and on and fucking on about how he needed to lose weight and Niall needed to help him.  And Niall had told him straight up that it was a bad idea and that he didn’t want to help him.  Yet Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer.  Even when Niall said that he wanted to lose ten pounds too but he knew it was a bad idea, Harry kept going.  He even had the gall to say that if Niall supported him with his weight loss, he would support Niall with his. Like, what the fuck.   Harry was perfectly aware that Niall was skinny—too skinny—and was underweight.  He fucking knew that Niall had a bad relationship with his weight. He fucking knew that Niall losing even more weight would be detrimental to his health.  But there he was suggesting that Niall lose more weight just so he could help Harry drop ten pounds.  Harry was fucking putting Niall’s health at risk for his own selfish reasons. And how could Niall resist an offer of someone to support his weight loss?  Seriously, he’d dreamed of being able to eat as little as he wanted and lose as much weight as he pleased without raising anyone’s suspicions and without anyone trying to stop him.  And there Harry was promising to not only let Niall lose weight but to also help him with it.  How could he turn that down?  When Niall had still remained unsure about Harry’s bargain, Harry promised to buy Niall a new scale if he helped him lose weight.  It was so fucking tempting, Niall couldn’t fucking stand it. But at the same time it hurt so goddamn bad because Harry _knew_ that owning a scale would only hurt Niall, but he was still willing to do that just so he could feel better about himself.  So comforting to know that Harry cared enough about Niall to put his safety and wellbeing first. 

And God, Niall wanted to give in and say yes so badly. But Niall, above all else, cares about his friends.  And he cares about their health.  So somehow, miraculously, he turned down Harry’s offers.  He refused because he didn’t want Harry to even have the slightest chance of his diet turning into something much more sinister.  He didn’t want Harry to hurt the way that he does. So he fucking said that he couldn’t. He tried hinting to Harry that it would be unhealthy for him, but Harry wouldn’t take the hint and kept pushing.

He would not stop talking about how much he wished he could have the amount of willpower Niall had and how he wished he could be like Niall.  And Niall just…

Niall couldn’t fucking take it anymore. “It’s not a matter of willpower,” he’d groaned, head in his hands, face screwed up.  Harry had scoffed then, not believing him. “It’s not about willpower,” Niall’d repeated more forcefully. 

“Well if it’s not about willpower, then what is it about?”

And Niall, despite every single cell in his body screaming at him not to do it, not to say it, to just drop it and move on, had replied, “Do you really want to know?”  Harry had nodded.  So Niall shut his eyes, gritted his teeth and muttered, “I have an eating disorder, okay. It’s not about fucking willpower. It’s not a choice you make.” And just like that, his secret was out. Niall had never told a soul. Not his parents, not his brother, not a single one of his therapists or psychiatrists.  No one knew.  Not a soul alive knew that Niall James Horan had an eating disorder. He’d kept it a secret for so long, and he’d hidden it so well, but in an instant, in just one moment, one lapse in judgment, he’d slipped and revealed his deepest darkest secret. And he was so fucking pissed. He was furious at himself. He literally could not believe that he could ever be that fucking stupid.  Because now Harry knew, and Harry would stop him from losing more weight and Harry would make him eat and Harry would make him get help or, worst of all, Harry would tell someone, or make Niall tell someone about it. And that was just too much. Niall couldn’t even think about that.

“Okay,” was what Harry had said. The biggest fucking secret of Niall’s life, the first time he ever admitted to someone that he had a problem, and that was what Harry said: okay.  Of course he’d gone on to reassure Niall that it didn’t change anything; it didn’t change the way he thought about him.  He’d even said that he’d wondered a lot about that; he’d suspected that Niall might have an eating disorder, but he was never sure.  And Niall didn’t know what to think.  He didn’t know what to say.  He was just so confused.  Because why? Why would he say that? Why would he blow his secret so easily? Why?  What was his problem?  What was wrong with him?  He was just so confused and angry and at a loss for words. 

Niall lost track of what was being said. His mind was elsewhere. And so they had continued to talk. Niall had hoped that maybe, just maybe, his revelation would change Harry’s mind about his new diet. But no.  It did nothing to deter Harry.  And Niall just couldn’t deal with it any longer. He just couldn’t fight against Harry. So he gave in and promised to help him but only if he would do it in a healthy way and would stop as soon as he reached his goal weight.  Harry had been thrilled, thanking Niall profusely.  They then began to discuss Harry’s new diet plans.  And Niall’s brain just kind of shut off.  He was on autopilot.  Talking but not really there.

And so they had parted after a while, Harry promising to text Niall with what he ate at each meal so that Niall could keep him on track with his diet, and Niall nodding along wordlessly, numb with disbelief.

And now, as he lay in bed, utterly furious at himself, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how much better off everything would be if he just ended it all.  How much better off everything would be if he just disappeared.  How much better off everything would be if he just died. How much better off everything would be if he just…

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will once more reiterate a very important point that I made in the story: EATING DISORDERS ARE NOT A CHOICE. Eating disorders are not something you can shrug on and off like a coat. They are life-threatening mental illnesses that you cannot control. There is a HUGE difference between a diet and having an eating disorder. A diet is a voluntary choice to lose weight that can be picked up or put down at any time. An eating disorder is a disease that distorts your thoughts and actions to the point of being dangerous and life-threatening; you think about food all of the time, you cannot stop thinking about food, you cannot force yourself to eat, you would sooner die than eat when you don't want to, you are terrified of gaining weight, you feel as though you would die if you gained weight, you hate yourself and your body so much that you are willing to do whatever it takes to make it less hideous and grotesque and disgusting, and most of all you CANNOT STOP. You cannot control your thoughts, or your habits.  
> And one more thing. Eating disorders are NOT A MATTER OF WILLPOWER. It is not that someone is "strong" enough to avoid the temptation of food, "strong" enough to stick to their "diet." Eating disorders are not about willpower, and they are not a choice. No one would choose to watch in terror as their hair falls out, to lose their friends because they cannot go out to eat, to exercise despite physical pain, or to binge eat until they feel like they are going to explode. If you find yourself wanting to make this kind of statement, I would encourage you to educate yourself on eating disorders and the devastating impact that they can have on people's lives.  
> Do not ever fool yourself into thinking that eating disorders are not a serious mental illness.
> 
>  
> 
> That aside, THERE IS NO SHAME IN ASKING FOR HELP. If you or someone you know is suffering and struggling with an eating disorder, I urge you to please seek the help that you deserve. I promise, you deserve it.
> 
> International Resources:  
> http://www.eatingdisorderhope.com/treatment-for-eating-disorders/international
> 
> U.S. Resources:  
> http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/resource-links  
> http://www.anad.org/eating-disorders-get-help/eating-disorders-support-groups/
> 
> Online Resources:  
> http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/online-eating-disorder-screening  
> http://www.b-eat.co.uk/get-help/about-eating-disorders/information-sheets/
> 
>  
> 
> Please remember to be kind to yourself, patient and compassionate with others, smile, laugh, spend time with people who make you happy, and above all else, remember that "kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see."
> 
> Do not give up. Do not lose faith. Stay strong. I promise you are worth it. Even though it may not always feel like it, you are important and you are loved. "To the world, you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world."
> 
> If you ever need someone to talk to, or encourage you, or believe in you, or you just need a friend, I am always here for you. So please don't ever think that you are alone, because I promise that you are not. You can find me on tumblr at lia-is-in-love.tumblr.com
> 
> I love you all so much and I hope that each and every one of you find the happiness and peace in life that you deserve.
> 
> Lots of love,  
> -Lia


End file.
